


Corrosion

by mormolyce



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-08 22:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17394947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mormolyce/pseuds/mormolyce
Summary: Foreign power began to seep through the lines of fused bone along Mary Wardwell’s skull. The droplets that made it to her brain were met with a hard preternatural resistance, and the magic bounced off Lilith’s consciousness like hail on tarmac. She saw Hilda strain, ever so slightly.





	1. Chapter 1

There was nothing to do. Sabrina had signed her name and the Dark Lord had stopped answering her prayers. Lilith was left twiddling her thumbs. Superficially, of course, Mary Wardwell was plenty busy. There was still no principal at Baxter High - the petty politics and in-fighting of the schoolboard had reached an apex that would make the most harden politician wince. But Lilith couldn’t care about that if she tried. 

Zelda had stopped coming to their ‘meetings’. 'Meetings.' It was the witch’s late found shame that labelled them as such – Lilith abhorred the terminology utterly but for the sake of pretences had played along. In truth, their semi-regular coupling was nothing more than a quick tryst and a half-hearted adrenalin rush, satiating mutual needs as methodically as possible. There was no sentimentality and if Lilith was honest only the most minor welt of pleasure. But unless she took to butchering mortal men every other week, it was the closest thing to a kick she could find. And now she had been discarded like a used rag. It was bitterly insulting.

Perhaps it was for that very reason Lilith did not track her down. She would not go crawling after Zelda like a lovesick schoolgirl; she would not let her know the depressing significance of their fleeting moonlit unions. And so, after ‘work’, she would wander Greendale alone, traipsing through dark alleyways, terrorising the teenage gangs when they sought to threaten her and sending the homeless into her own version of a merciful trance. There was never any bloody violence. Nothing to kick-up a fuss.

It was on one of those nights that she found herself at the bookstore. The sky was dark despite the early evening and she did not pause to question why the shop was still open. Inside, it was a grim amalgamation of dusty shelves and shiny modern coffee machines. A handful of chairs were huddled in the corner, mimicking a library. Others were against the wall, paired off and enclosing tiny raised tables. One or two people browsed the shelves, picking up books with varying degrees of interest. A teenager sat in the corner, sipping an espresso and reading what looked like a Kafka novel. Lilith rolled her eyes at the pretension.

“Miss Wardwell!”

Hilda sauntered up to her, a little too confident. She was not wearing her wig, but the costume dress alone was enough to make Lilith roll her eyes once more.

“What are you doing here?”

Hilda was so enthusiastic it made Lilith grimace.

“Just… Looking in.”

“Well stay awhile, if you like. We don’t close until eight on Wednesdays, and there’s plenty on the drinks menu.” She leant in close and whispered loudly. “We even have desserts.”

Lilith stared at her dispassionately.

And then she remembered the drive home.

“What kind of dessert?”

Hilda chuckled and leant back on one foot.

“Well, mainly just milkshakes at the moment-“

“Chocolate?”

“Well… Yes?”

“Good,” said Lilith, cocking her head slightly. “Then I’ll have one of those.”

She did not stick around long enough to read Hilda’s perplexed expression. Instead she sauntered towards one of the high tables, sitting down away from the door but facing the obnoxious youth with the espresso. She narrowed her eyes. An iota of magic drifted lazily towards him, landing square in the back of his neck. It wormed its way up towards his skull, wrapping around his throat like a fine thread. The teenager brought the espresso cup to his lips once more and Lilith tugged on the chord, watching in delight as he spluttered violently. The other patrons turned to him in alarm.

Hilda marched to Lilith’s table and she dropped the thread. The boy stopped coughing.

“That’s not very nice,” said Hilda, placing a tall drink before the demon.  

Lilith shrugged.

“I’ve done worse.”

Hilda paused and stared at her searchingly.

“Yeah,” she said, finally. “I can believe that.”

Lilith smiled at her with fake sweetness. Hilda ran her lips together, deliberating. The boy in the armchair stood up to leave.

“Miss Wardwell? Can I ask you something?”

“Well, that rather depends on the nature of the question.”

Hilda did not pause to process the response.

“Which coven did you say you were from? Before you came to Greendale.”

“I didn’t.”

The boy pushed past them and out the door. The bell tinkled despondently. 

“It’s just,” continued Hilda, “I was wondering how you knew Edward. How you really, knew Edward.”

“I’m not sure it’s my place to say.”

Hilda pursed her lips.

“Hm.”

Lilith smiled dispassionately. The witch’s expression neither faltered nor exaggerated, and she did not walk away from the table.

“I must admit,” purred Lilith, pulling the milkshake closer, “It’s not everyday someone takes such an interest in little old me.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

Lilith took a loud slurp through the straw of her milkshake. Hilda didn’t move. She didn’t speak, either. Lilith could feel her power oscillating, sending ripples of energy through the air.

“Oh, for Satan’s sake,” growled the demon, sighing in disdain. “Just say what you want to say and leave.”

Hilda shifted on the spot and crossed her arms.

“Are you really a witch, Miss Wardwell?”

“Please,” purred Lilith, “Call me Mary. And that’s an interesting theory, Miss Spellman.”

“Hilda.”

“Hil-da,” repeated Lilith, dragging each syllable as far as it would go.  

She could feel Hilda’s magic probing gently at the base of her neck. It kneaded carefully up her spine, slipping under the skin and massaging her skull, seeking an entry.

“But the trouble is,” continued the demon, “There’s a flaw in that line of enquiry, don’t you think? Suppose you’re right, suppose I’m not a witch. Wouldn’t that only lead to more questions?”

Foreign power began to seep through the lines of fused bone along Mary Wardwell’s cranium. The droplets that made it to her brain were met with a hard preternatural resistance and the magic bounced off Lilith’s consciousness like hail on tarmac. She saw Hilda strain, ever so slightly.

“Because if I’m not a witch, dear Hilda… Then what do you suppose I am?”

She pushed back. She couldn’t outrun the witch’s magic, a delicate web that tremored when Lilith rallied her own forces, but she could slip through it. An unsophisticated barrage of magic splintered through the netherworld and her power pierced Hilda’s mental defences like tiny needles through coarse fabric. She picked up scraps of innocuous information: phone numbers, household chores, a work rota. Hilda blinked in shock and took a small step back, retreating her forces as she scrambled to plug the gaps.

Lilith relaxed.

“I must say,” she drawled, “You are far better at this than any of your kin.”

Hilda inhaled sharply, standing up straight and shaking out the final wisps of Lilith’s magic with a visible twitch of her head.

Then she stared at her in utter defiance.

“What do you want, Mary?”

“Well,” hummed Lilith, leaning forward and slurping through the straw. “Right now, I want to drink my milkshake.”

Hilda rolled her eyes. She leant over the table, pointing one finger at Lilith in a gesture that was more theatrically comical than threatening.

“Listen,” she hissed, voice barely audible. “If you seek to harm me, or Sabrina, or anyone else in that house, I will find out about it. And you will be in trouble.”

Lilith stared into Hilda’s cleavage and took another slurp on the plastic straw.

“I’m sure I will,” she crooned patronisingly, lips pouted. “But what of the coven?” Her tone changed. “Do you not care if I seek to harm them?”

Hilda sniffed and stood up straight. Lilith watched sadly as her cleavage disappeared out of sight.

“I’m sure you already know full well what I think of that coven. And what that coven thinks of me.”

Lilith shrugged.

“I was only asking.”

She leant back in her seat and beamed at Hilda. Hilda ignored her.

“You haven’t paid for your milkshake.”

“Oh, my, I must have forgotten. How silly.”

Lilith reached into her bag and pulled out a mismatched handful of coins that may or may not have totalled the correct amount. She let them drip into Hilda’s open hand. Hilda didn’t even bother to count the money, closing her fist tightly and folding her arms. 

“Goodnight, Mary.”

She turned and walked toward the counter.

“Goodnight,” sang Lilith, voice carrying an unwelcome magic that licked lasciviously at Hilda’s spine. She watched Hilda stumble in her retreat and giggled to herself like a playground bully.

But then ‘Dr. Cerberus’ stepped out from between a bookcase and gently caught Hilda’s hand, steadying her. Lilith narrowed her eyes. The bookseller wrapped one arm around Hilda’s waist and squeezed quickly, affectionately. Hilda leant into him ever so slightly. Her lips moved in an angry whisper. The interaction vanished as quickly as it had appeared, but Lilith already knew the words that were spoken. For though Hilda continued towards the counter, the fake doctor turned to the table. He stared at Lilith, brow furrowed.

The demon blew him a kiss.


	2. Chapter 2

Lilith could not forget the encounter. It wasn’t the first time someone had uncovered her little secret, and it surely would not be the last. But those who unveiled her were usually so much more predictable. They’d start performing secret incantations in the dead of night, using bits of her host’s hair to make the pathetic human body twist and snap. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. But nobody ever asked her outright. Especially not someone as innocuous as Hilda Spellman. She already knew the witch was overlooked – Zelda spoke about her younger sister the same way you might a particularly ill-behaved pet. But the power Hilda had demonstrated in the bookstore resonated in Lilith’s mind for days after. She needed to see her again.

She returned to the bookstore the following week. Same time, same place. Same dark sky, same pretentious teenager. She smiled coyly as Hilda served her, sipped from the milkshake loudly and obtrusively. Hilda did her best to ignore the demon but it was no good. Lilith’s magic filled the air like smoke. And then the shop closed and Lilith left, the tiny tinkling bell the only remnant of her presence.

The week after was the same. And the week after that. Sometimes Lilith brought a book, other times she brought nothing at all. Slowly, ever so slowly, Hilda began to respond. The first week Lilith had asked after Hilda’s day and Hilda said nearly nothing. The following week it was a sentence. The week after that almost a conversation. Hilda would ask about the school. About Sabrina. She did not repeat her original line of enquiry and there was no further discussion of Mary Wardwell’s demonic status. In fact, Hilda seemed loathe to talk about magic at all. Lilith obliged her, because that’s what Lilith was built to do.

And then, one month later, the demon moved her first piece.  

Mary Wardwell’s car drove neatly onto the mortuary grounds and stopped not three feet from the burial lot. Lilith’s fingers curled into the steering wheel - she could feel Zelda’s oil-slick magic despite the distance. Zelda was powerful, but so obtusely powerful it almost made her weak. Blackwood had sensed it and been able to charm her with little more than a sentence. Lilith had managed to do so in less than five words. And when the demons came, the other, pithy, uninspired demons, Zelda would be the obvious target. After all, Batibat had taken great pains to destroy her.

Still, Lilith took no pleasure in clambering up the steps, heels digging into the rotting wood of the porch. It felt too close to grovelling, and though she knew she was here for Hilda, Zelda would undoubtedly think she was seeking reconciliation. She pursed her lips in disgust at the prospect, and stood, unwilling, in front of the door. She could feel them moving around inside – Hilda’s magic, steadfast and solid; Zelda’s, lethargic and beautiful. Sabrina’s power was detectable by its absence, a black void visible only by its pull on the forces around it. There was another power too, skittish and light, a freedom fighter’s magic. Lilith took a deep breath and her consciousness snapped back to the physical world.

She rang the doorbell.

It was Hilda who answered.

“Oh, Mary. Hello.”

“Hello.”

Lilith could hear Zelda shout something from the kitchen. Hilda turned and yelled a reply, announcing Lilith’s presence to the household. There was a splintering sound, like china cracking. Zelda’s footsteps clattered towards the door and she shoved Hilda out of the way.

She took a drag on her eternal cigarette and exhaled out the corner of her mouth. Hilda hung back, face barely visible in the doorway.

“What do you want?” drawled Zelda, mouth curled in disdain.

“I’m sure that’s none of your business.”

Zelda snorted and a film of smoke drifted out her nostrils.

“Oh really? So I’m to believe you’re not here to talk about our…” She paused, looking back at Hilda and then glaring at Lilith. “Arrangement?”

“Zelda,” droned Lilith, “You’ve become selfish in your old age. I’m not here for you. Not at all.”

“Then, pray tell, what trouble has Sabrina got herself in now?”

“She hasn’t. Oh, do stop trying to guess, you’ll only embarrass yourself.”

The tar pit of Zelda’s magic began to shift uneasily.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

Hilda looked at her older sister warily. Zelda ignored her.

“Now move,” spat the demon, voice laced with sudden acerbity, “I need to talk with Hilda.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Zelda laughed, sharp and cruel. Lilith raised an eyebrow. Hilda shifted uncomfortably in the doorway.

“Please,” chuckled the eldest Spellman, “Tell me you’re joking. What on earth could you want with _her_?”

Lilith smiled brightly.

“Hilda has been very kind to me. She’s keeping a secret on my behalf. I want to thank her.”

Zelda stopped laughing. She stared at Lilith, then at Hilda, and then at Lilith again.

“What kind of secret?”

“As I said,” crooned the demon. “That’s none of your business.”

Zelda’s magic began to seep out her skin; it stained the air the same way crude oil stained the ocean. She did not turn to face Hilda, nor did she raise her voice.

“Hilda? Care to explain yourself?”

Hilda let out a shaky breath but did not speak. Her silence was telling. Zelda whipped round and glared at her.

“Hilda.” Zelda's voice was sharp, punctuated. “What secret?”

Hilda looked sheepishly between her sibling and the demon.

“It’s not really a secret… It’s more… Well, it’s more…”

“It’s more what!?”

Hilda winced.

Then something changed.

Lilith took a small step forward, imposing herself, fractionally, on the doorframe. She smiled at Hilda; it was neither a threat, nor a gloat. It was almost genuine. Almost caring. The demon gave a small, noncommittal nod of reassurance. Hilda looked over Zelda’s shoulder and caught the movement. She cleared her throat, clenched her jaw, and steeled herself.

She looked her older sister in the eyes.

“You keep secrets from me, Zelds.”

“And what has that got to do with anything?”

Hilda shrugged and looked away.

“I just… I think you should respect Mary’s privacy, that’s all.”

“Hm.”

Lilith pushed off the doorframe and they turned to face her. Zelda was trying to look disinterested and failing. Her face contorted with poorly concealed rage. 

“And how did you intend to thank my sister for services rendered? Take her out for a nice meal? A trip to the cinema?”

“Perhaps.” Lilith’s gaze flickered to Hilda. “If she’d like.”

Hilda laughed nervously and she looked at the back of Zelda’s head. Zelda clenched her jaw and audibly tutted. 

Hilda looked back to Lilith.

“Um, I think I’d better not. Thanks all the same.”

Lilith shrugged.

“Well, maybe some other time.”

The sisters were arguing before Zelda even shut the door. 

Lilith picked her way over the unkept gravel of the mortuary drive, grinning incessantly. If Stolas were here he’d chide her for taking such a fancy to an otherwise unimportant individual. But the Dark Lord was still refusing to answer her prayers and she was growing restless - the mortal world was so boring and uneventful. The trouble was, unless otherwise directed, she didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t just _leave_. She slammed the door shut and settled distractedly into the seat.

She knew she would take her revenge on the Dark Lord eventually. No man had ever ignored Lilith and come out unscathed, and deity though he may be, she would make sure that included the Devil himself. But she did not have the brute force of a male coven. It would take time. Worse, despite her anger, Lilith was still clamouring to give him the benefit of the doubt. She switched on the engine and exhaled heavily. The car started over the gravel, crunching unwilling over the tiny stones.

Behind her, like a thin veil of mist, Discordia began to seep quietly, insidiously, into the Spellman house.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posting without a beta reader bc i live on the edge bye

Lilith resumed her weekly visits to the bookstore. They did not speak of her trip to the Spellman Mortuary and Hilda did not appear to relax in their fleeting discussions. Lilith had assumed that she could gently nudge Hilda’s ego into compliance, but, if anything, the witch only seemed to recede, clinging to Dr. Cerberus more than ever.

Lilith still didn’t like him. He didn’t like her either, but she was a paying customer, and there was nothing he could do about it. Besides, she could be patient. She whispered to Sabrina that the bookstore needed patrons, gently encouraged her diligent student to frequent the place as often as possible. Sabrina went, because she owed Mary Wardwell her life and she owed Hilda Spellman her happiness. Eventually, the young witch realised what was happening between her aunt and Dr Cerberus.

Sabrina did not have Hilda’s gift for secrets - it was only a matter of time before Zelda found out too. 

Then, approximately two weeks after Sabrina began patronising the bookstore, Hilda vanished. Well, she vanished according to Dr. Cerberus. Lilith had come by for her usual Wednesday night arrangement, and Hilda had been mysteriously absent. Dr. Cee begun to take her order, offhandedly asking if she wanted the ‘usual’, but when Lilith most casually inquired after Hilda he’d nearly broken down in tears.

Hilda had not shown up to work and was not explaining why. Each time he rang the house she either repeated the same pathetic lament of ailment or simply let the phone ring out. Apparently, her older sister had answered at one point and told him in no uncertain terms to go hang. He couldn’t figure out what he’d done wrong, but he knew this was going to happen eventually. She was too good for him, always had been. He wiped his nose on his sleeve.

Lilith tried to suppress her revulsion during his pitiful monologue. It took one skim-dive of his meagre mortal brain for her to realise he was both bitterly in love and an utter coward. She did her best to nod sympathetically as he blubbered in the most unprofessional manner possible, and promised she would visit the house that very evening.

Half an hour later, her car was trundling indifferently up the mortuary drive.

She rang the doorbell. Zelda answered.

“She’s not in.”

The witch went to slam her front door but Lilith stretched out her arm and held it firm.

“That’s not what I heard.”

Zelda tightened her grip on the handle. She did not allow Lilith to pass.

“What’s it to you?”

The demon smiled.

“Hilda is my friend. I want to make sure she’s okay.”

“She’s fine.”

“Then why won’t you let me see her?”

Zelda’s lip twitched, ever so slightly. Lilith hummed thoughtfully.

“My, my,” she sang. “Are you jealous that your little sister has a new playmate?”

“Don’t be preposterous.”

Lilith’s voice dropped.

“Then let me in.”

Zelda narrowed her eyes and did not move.

Lilith sighed.

“You know,” hummed the demon, “There’s a reason people like her more than you.” Her voice was lethargic and unhurried. Lilith took a small step forward. “Hilda’s steadfast,” she continued, “Genuine.” She lowered her arm from the door and Zelda did not take the opportunity to close it. “She’s loving, she cares. You’re not - you’re cruel.” She could feel Zelda’s insecurity, the witch’s self-doubt bubbling towards the surface. “That’s the only way people will ever see you. It’s too late to change now.” Zelda’s anger began to taint the air and Lilith kept talking. “She’s perceptive, too. She already had an inkling about you and I. And about you and… The male.” Lilith smiled at her coquettishly. Zelda’s face contorted with revulsion. “Come now Zelda, don’t look so offended. Hilda can uncover deception as well as she can keep it.” The demon sneered. “Especially when it comes to her kin.”

“Mary?”

Zelda jumped.

She had not felt Hilda’s approach, neither heard her footsteps nor sensed her encroaching magic.

The demon smiled brightly.

“Oh, Hilda dear, there you are.”

Zelda clenched her jaw. She did not let Hilda near the threshold and Lilith was forced to peer into the darkened house, eyes settling resolutely on Hilda. The younger Spellman’s neck was bruised, mottled grey and sickly green. The wound spilt over her body like an ink stain, climbing up to her hairline and dropping beneath the fabric of her top. She was wearing no makeup and her hair was still damp, wet from a recent shower.

“Zelds?”

“Go inside,” snapped Zelda.

“No,” said Lilith. “Stay.”

Hilda froze. She looked uneasily between her warring elders.

“What have you done to your sister?” asked Lilith, voice smooth as silk.

“I should be asking you the same question,” bristled Zelda.

Lilith felt Zelda’s magic coil inside her body like a particularly lethal spring. It left her defences wide open.

“Oh really?” chided Lilith. “Because I’m not sure I’ve done anything, have I Hilda?”

Hilda did not respond.

“Whereas you, Zelda Spellman, appear to have…” She cocked her head and pursed her lips. “Pushed your sister down the stairs? My, that is uncreative.”

Zelda audibly snarled.

“Get off my property.”

“ _Your_ property?” Lilith’s reply twanged back like a rubber band. “The mortuary belongs to both of you, does it not?”

There was a beat. Lilith smiled at Hilda.

“What do you think, dear?”

Hilda’s eyes were wide. She opened her mouth to speak, but Zelda interrupted before she could utter a single syllable.

“One word and you’ll be back in the Cain Pit before midnight.” She didn’t even look at Hilda. “I mean it.”

It was like she had flicked a switch.

Hilda’s magic, until this point dense and protective, contorted with rage. It spiked in pits and troughs like the polygraph of a dying man, radiating off her body and twisting the space around them. It hissed jets of heat, static that twitched and wheezed almost audibly. The wood of the door began to singe at the edges and the light bulbs flickered in an almost comical display of supernatural energy. Zelda had to release the handle to stop her fingers burning.  

Hilda exhaled heavily.

“Mary’s here for me. And I’m going with her.”

Zelda glared at her sister. Lilith took a step back and smiled.

“You will do no such thing!”

“Oh, won’t I?”

Hilda was already reaching for her coat.

“Because I’ve had it up to here with you,” she continued, wrestling her coat over her shoulders. “I can make friends with who I like.”

“Oh, _friends_? Is that all? Because I get the distinct feeling there’s something going on that I’m not privy to.”

“And what if there is?”

Hilda marched up to her sister and stood directly in front of her. Lilith could feel Zelda’s uncertainty, but the elder witch’s voice stayed haughty nonetheless.

“How much of your life have you deigned to hide from me, hm?”

“You are _not_ my keeper, Zelda, no matter what you may think. I’m hurting no one.”

“You can’t trust her.”

“The same way I can’t trust you?”

The reply was brutal. Zelda’s façade shattered. Hilda took a step back and crossed her arms.

“Did you honestly think you could keep doing this forever?”

“I… Everything I do is all for your own-”

“For my own good?” Hilda snorted. “You kill me for my own good?”

Zelda swallowed wetly and opened her mouth to speak, but she could find no words.

“Yeah,” said Hilda, “That’s what I thought.”

Then she pushed past her sister and into Lilith’s waiting arms.

The demon smiled graciously.

They turned and walked down the porch. Lilith could feel Zelda standing on the edge of the doorway, watching them depart. Hilda bustled along beside her, and she was sure the younger Spellman could feel it too, but for whatever reason she did not look back. They sauntered leisurely towards the car, and Lilith wrapped one arm through Hilda’s, until they were walking alongside each other like a pair of old women. She opened the passenger door and helped Hilda into the seat, before shutting the door carefully and walking to the driver’s side. She glanced at the house.

Zelda was still there, watching the scene like a lover scorned.

 


	4. Chapter 4

“You’re never going to tell her, are you?”

The trees flew past them with impossible speed. Lilith was driving twice the limit and had not bothered with a belt.

“No,” said Hilda, trying to keep her voice firm. The forest, the road, even the stars were a blur.

Lilith cocked her head.

“That’s very kind of you.”

She was not being dishonest.

“Look,” continued Hilda, ignoring the fleeting veracity, “I know I was a bit dramatic back there, but I really think Zelda’s learnt her lesson, so if you’d just-”

“Turn this car around? Oh, no, no. Don’t be ridiculous. We’re having a girls’ night.”

Hilda tittered nervously. She gripped the side of the door, knuckles pale. She would not stop staring out the windscreen. Her heart was racing so loud Lilith could practically hear it.

The demon rolled her eyes and gently pressed on the brake pedal. The car slowed and although they were still obviously breaking the limit, Hilda let out an audible sigh of relief.

“Better?”

“Mmh.”

The forest drifted lazily past them, the lights of Mary’s car two bright eyes illuminating the road ahead. Hilda swallowed - Lilith saw her try the lock on the door.

“Don’t look so worried,” she crooned, “I’m not going to kill you.”

“Right, well.” Hilda coughed and put her hands in her lap. “That is a relief.”

“Or torture you,” continued Lilith, glancing at her languidly. “Unless you want that.”

“Satan, no! Bloody hell, who would… _Oh_.”

Her voice trailed off and she slumped in her seat. Lilith turned her attention back to the road.

“Zelda?”

“Zelda.”

Hilda sighed.

“She’s worse with the priest.”

“Just don’t.”

Lilith laughed maliciously.

Eventually the trees began to thin, and the car slowed once more, rounding a corner and slipping off the tarmac. The road was bumpy and riddle with potholes, and Hilda winced as they hurtled over the dents. Lilith did nothing, just gripped the steering wheel even tighter. They turned another corner and the car trundled to a stop. The engine fell silent. Hilda scrabbled frantically with her seatbelt and then the car door, but it would not budge. Lilith smiled at her lethargically. Hilda held her gaze, defiant to the last. Then Lilith undid the locks and Hilda all but fell out the car.

Lilith stepped neatly out just as Hilda slammed the passenger door shut in contempt. She stumbled to her feet, leaning on the car door and hauling herself upright. It was dark, so dark the witch could barely see. Lilith sauntered round the vehicle and stood behind her.

Hilda cleared her throat.

“Um, Mary? Where are we, exactly?”

“Home.”

The security lights flashed on. Their clear white light was blinding, and Hilda covered her eyes with her arm. Lilith waited.

“Alright,” wheezed Hilda, “Alright, you’ve made your point.”

The lights dimmed. Hilda moved her hand and stared at her pointedly.

“You do like a bit of drama, don’t you?”

Lilith shrugged.

“Doesn’t everyone?”

The door was unlocked.

Lilith pushed it ajar and hovered on the threshold, turning and staring at Hilda pointedly.

“You can run if you like,” she sang. “But I’ve got the car keys. And you won’t get far.”

Her voice drifted and lilted through the airwaves, with the same perverse magic that had slicked Hilda’s spine all those days ago. Hilda shuddered. Lilith’s grin flashed bright white as the security lights finally shut off.

Hilda’s breath misted before her face.

“I’m a woman of my word,” intoned the demon, voice still sing-song. “You have nothing to fear.”

The witch shuffled forward and the security lights came on again. She muttered something under her breath.

“What was that?” crooned Lilith.

“I should’ve stayed with bloody Zelda!”

Hilda gripped the bannister of the porch and clambered up the stairs.

“At least she doesn’t try to spook me. Play fucking, whatever the fuck this is.”

“My,” sang Lilith, “You’ve got a filthy mouth, Hilda Spellman.”

“Yeah and you’re as clean as a fucking whistle.”

She reached the top of the stairs and shoved one finger under Lilith’s chin. Her blunted fingernail dug into the demon’s skin and pushed against the base of her windpipe. Lilith could feel her teeth pushing together under the force, and when she swallowed the movement was cut short. Hilda’s magic was crackling in the air around her, the same brazen static as earlier that evening. The corners of the porch began to smoulder and steam hissed off patches of damp.

Lilith smiled.

“I swear to the Dark Lord, if you do anything to me in there, anything at all, I will fucking come for you. When you least expect it, me and my kin will come for you with the wrath of all the gods on earth. Do you understand?”

“Of course,” purred the demon. 

Hilda dropped her hand.

“Good.”

And she stepped inside the spider’s web.

The fireplace burst into life and Hilda squinted, surveying the room. The space was lined with rich red tapestries and dark mahogany furniture. Two armchairs were propped facing the hearth, and a litany of taxidermy animals adorned the walls.

“This is… Nice.”

Lilith stepped over the threshold and the door swung shut. Hilda spared it a fleeting glance.

“What were you expecting?” crooned Lilith, “An abattoir?”

“Well,” said Hilda, matter-of-factly, “There _is_ a bloodstain on the carpet.”

Lilith froze on the spot.

“You want a bit of baking soda for that,” continued the witch. She wandered around the room and poked the remains of Stolas. “Or some lemon juice.”

Lilith’s eyes widen in surprise. She ran her fingers through Mary Wardwell’s hair.

“My familiar,” said the demon. There was a desperation in her voice that could not go unnoticed. “He betrayed me.” She walked behind Hilda and dropped her voice low. “So, I killed him.”

“Well,” said Hilda brightly, “You’ve done a good job stuffing him.”

And then the witch shuffled away, peering at the peculiarities on the mantelpiece. She picked up the figurine of the Red Angel of Death and put it down again with complete indifference only seconds later.

Lilith, for the third time in her immortal life, was utterly dumbfounded. She croaked, audibly.

Hilda turned and smiled at her as if she were smiling at a particularly entertaining child.

“I’m still scared, you know.”

Lilith exhaled uneasily.

“Utterly petrified, if I’m honest.”

“And yet,” said the demon. “You hardly seem afraid at all.”

Hilda laughed breathily; Mary Wardwell’s jaw clenched so hard it could snap.

“You know how many times Zelda’s offed me?”

“Do enlighten me.”

“Twenty-four. You try dying twenty-four times, see if you care anymore.”

Lilith cocked her head like a raven staring at a riddle.

“Besides,” said Hilda, sitting down in one of the armchairs and kicking off her shoes. “I meant what I said. Perhaps _I_ can’t bring hellfire down upon you” – she turned and smiled at Lilith again, with the same, patronising grin - “But I know someone who can.”

The air shifted.

“Now, you gonna get me a drink, or are you just going to stand around trying to look intimidating?”

Lilith’s mouth twisted into a smirk.

“Whiskey?”

“Yeah,” said Hilda, nodding. The faintest wisps of fear crept back into her voice. “I could do with one about now.”

\---

Hilda leant unflatteringly into her chair. The glass had been emptied and refilled twice already, and it was a wonder she had not begun to get dozy. Lilith had drunk the same, if not more, but her soulless body had little to do with the consciousness therein, and she was as unaffected as a corpse.

“Does it hurt?”

The demon’s voice was almost earnest.

“Does what hurt?”

“Dying.”  

Hilda turned her head and gazed at Lilith lazily.

“’Course it hurts.”

“Even when you come back?”

“Especially when you come back. You dig your way out the earth fighting for breath and then you claw over the ground like a fucking maggot. ‘Course it hurts.”

Hilda took a gulp of her drink. Lilith took a slow, intentional breath and exhaled heavily.

“Would you like me to help you with the pain? The physical pain, that is.”

Hilda snorted loudly, unflatteringly.

“You? What good could you do? Demons aren’t healers. Everyone knows that.”

“Oh, really?” Lilith’s reply was slingshot and it winded Hilda absolutely. “And who told you that? Your _warlock_ teachers?”

Lilith blinked and smiled as brightly as possible. Hilda squirmed in her seat.

“Because you know,” continued the demon, “I wouldn’t trust them as far as I can throw.”

The fire crackled uneasily. Lilith did not stop smiling, and the seeds of her words sprouted in Hilda’s hazy brain. Eventually, Hilda reached a conclusion. She emptied her glass and set it down on the floor.

“Fine, go on then. Pissing painkillers never did me any good anyway.”

Lilith placed her own glass on the floor and stood up slowly, winding her way behind Hilda’s chair. She reached over the backrest and softly ran her fingers over Hilda’s shoulders. She made small circles, pushing with fingertips and thumbs. She felt Hilda winced when she hit a particularly deep bruise, but she lightened her touch, rendering it barely perceptible. Eventually, she felt Hilda relax beneath her.

Discreetly, delicately, her magic began to encroach on Hilda’s consciousness. Weakened as it was, Lilith had no doubt she could glean the information she sought, whatever that may be, but the thick tapestry of Hilda’s mind held firm despite the drink. Lilith’s magic began to worm its way through the defences, the same laborious chore as it had been when she first invaded Hilda’s mind.

And then, to her surprise, her magic slipped cleanly, directly into Hilda’s memories.

She paused, both metaphysically and in the real world.

“I was right, before,” said Hilda, brazen and blunt. “She is not my keeper. I can trust who I want.”

Lilith began massaging again and allowed her magic to thread its way through Hilda’s mind. She picked up the stolen baby; Hilda facing the Horseman alone; Sabrina’s birth; Edward Spellman and his mortal sow. The ‘plane crash.’ These weren’t just secrets. They were rebellions. Tiny, persistent rebellions.

And then something surprised her.

She pushed down on Hilda’s shoulders hard, so hard Hilda winced.

“Oi!”

Lilith lifted her hands and yielded.

“My apologies.”

Hilda eyed her warily. She reached up and rubbed her shoulders, checking for damage before allowing the demon to continue. Lilith began massaging again, gentle and rhythmic. She breathed steadily and waited for Hilda to relax. Finally, she spoke.

“I can help you with your burden, if you like.”

“Don’t be daft,” muttered Hilda without looking round. She was tired and blasé, half listening and only quarter caring.

“No,” crooned Lilith. “I really can.”

Slowly, carefully, she lowered her hands to Hilda’s chest. The rhythmic circles she made with her fingers did not stop, and Hilda realised too late what was happening. Her eyes flew open and she tensed, still as a rabbit when it spots the hawk. Her breath grew shaky and shallow, and she stared straight ahead, eyes tracking the movement of the fire. Lilith leant down and pulled her into a bizarre backwards hug. She whispered so close that Hilda could feel the heat of her too-warm body.

“Some days,” she began, “Some nights, I dream that I am walking into the Greendale Woods.” Her voice was low and seductive and Hilda whimpered so quietly Lilith couldn’t tell if the sound was real or just wishful thinking. “In the peak of dry season, with a lit torch in each hand.” She allowed the side of her face to touch against Hilda’s so that Hilda could feel her lips move. She spoke slower and slower, sauntering leisurely towards the climax. “So that I can watch the whole forest… _Burn_.”

The final word was grating, demonic. It reverberated off the walls, echoed in fifteen pitches all at once and howled without changing dynamic. In the glow of the fire, she saw the whites of Hilda’s eyes. The demon pursed her lips, wondered how much of her real tongue Hilda would be able to stand. The little witch had surprised her so far, mused Lilith, perhaps she would surprise her again.

Then Hilda took a sharp breath in and held it. She trembled beneath Lilith and Lilith said nothing more, allowing the words to hang in the air as she waited for Hilda to react. Hilda’s magic retreated into itself, pushing out Lilith’s needles by force and reforming into a dense mental wall. Lilith smiled when Hilda finally exhaled.

“Don’t worry,” she purred in Mary’s voice, “You don’t have to decided just yet.”

Her fingers had not stopped dancing across Hilda’s skin. They traced gentle rings above her heart.

“Do you want to know who I am?” whispered the demon.

She lowered her hands slightly, testing the water as her fingernails caressed the neckline of Hilda’s blouse. Then Hilda whimpered again, louder than before and with something other than fear. She shook her head minutely, unconvincingly.

“Are you sure?”

Hilda’s fingers curled into the armrests of the chair, but she did not move. Lilith breathed hot and heavy against her. Her hands twisted and undid the top button of Hilda’s blouse.

“Because I love guessing games.”

Hilda exhaled shakily. Her face was flush and her skin almost as hot as the demon’s. Lilith could see the muscles in her jaw clenching. She undid the second button.

“You can have a clue, if you want.”

Hilda bit her lip. Lilith’s fingers twisted as she unbuttoned the blouse down to Hilda’s bust.

“Tell me to stop,” murmured the demon, “I give you power here.”

Hilda did not move. Lilith could feel her deliberating, could practically hear the cogs turn in Hilda’s brain. But she did not get an answer. Her fingers massaged the skin above Hilda’s bra. Carnal magic wound up the witch’s leg, an infinite wave of silk. 

“Tell me to stop. I do not take with force.”

Hilda opened her mouth. She tried to form a word, a sentence, but it dissipated the moment it hit the air. Lilith was soft and steady and her movements flooded Hilda’s senses in a way they both knew nothing else could.

“Tell me to stop.” Her voice was barely audible. “You are in control.”

Hilda croaked and said nothing. There was one desperate moment of silence, nothing but Hilda’s shallow, pleading breath and the crackle of the fire. But what she was pleading for neither of them could tell.

Lilith slid her hands beneath the fabric of the bra and Hilda’s breath hitched.

“Stop!”

The demon froze; Hilda was panting.

“Stop.”

Lilith sighed, heavy into the witch’s neck. She pulled her hands away the same way the waves pull back from the shore – languid, resentful, and knowing full well they leave the beach wet in their wake.

Hilda exhaled as the final dregs of Lilith’s magic slunk reluctantly down her thigh.

The demon took three sharp steps away from the chair and Hilda burst into a flurry of disorientated movement. She fiddled clumsily with her buttons and closed the blouse in twice the time it had taken Lilith to expose her; she pushed up out the chair and almost fell against the mantlepiece. When she turned to face Lilith, she was shaking.

Yet, silhouetted by firelight, Hilda was almost threatening.

“What do you want?”

Lilith laughed darkly.

“I think you know what I want.”

“I am _not_ my sister,” spat Hilda with such animus that Lilith nearly jumped. But she recovered fast.

“Oh Hilda,” she drawled, rounding the chair and approaching her. “Do you really think this is about her?”

Hilda folded her arms, and turned to face Lilith. Lilith smiled as benevolently as she could manage. The light flickered across their faces as the flames danced. Half their features were bright lit, warm and rosy - the other half covered in darkness. Hilda’s darkness was immense. 

“I’m the second sister,” she sniffed. She did not uncross her arms. “The one you get when Zelda’s not around. And she certainly isn’t around for you.”

Lilith raised an eyebrow.

“You really think my relationship with your spindly sister was anything like this?” she said, sighing slightly. “She’s _boring,_ Hilda. A lonely, spiteful thing.”

“Oh yeah?” snorted Hilda. She was still afraid, Lilith didn’t need to read her mind to see that, but the façade was admirable. “And what does that make me?”

“That makes you... So much more.”

Hilda did not reply. Her jaw was taught and her eyes set firm, but her mind was reeling. Lilith smiled once more. She reached one hand up to Hilda’s face, fingers outstretched in something resembling hesitance. The tips of her nails whispered along Hilda’s cheek and for a moment Hilda appeared on the edge of submission.

But then the second sister took a step back.

“Take me home.”

Lilith dropped her hand.

“Fine.”

\---

Only later did Hilda realise the pain from her shoulders was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let hilda say fuck


	5. Chapter 5

Zelda had been waiting for her when she returned to the mortuary. So had Ambrose. Whether that was intentional or just a by-product of his night-owl tendencies Hilda could not tell, but she was grateful all the same. She was surprised too, when Zelda muttered brief but sincere apology, calmly stating the matter was ‘water under the bridge’ before stalking off to her bedroom. It had tickled Hilda all night, and the sentimentality was entirely unfamiliar.

The following morning, she had woken up as usual, made breakfast for the family (including heating Leticia’s baby milk) and trundled off to work. Except, when she got there, things were not as she expected. The store was still locked up, but when she knocked on the door to be let in, she was not met with the usual gusto. She didn’t get a smile, not even a ‘good morning’. Instead, Dr. Cerberus had pushed the door ajar and quizzically asked her who she was and what she was doing. It had taken Hilda approximately two seconds to realise what was going on. She practically crawled back to the car in shame.

Of course, Zelda couldn’t leave well enough alone. And, of course, her apology had been conditional. Wasn’t it always? She sat in the driver’s seat like a weepy divorcee, forehead on the steering wheel and droplets of water dripping off her chin. She had half a mind to storm back to the house, but her face was wet with tears and she couldn’t stand the thought of Zelda laughing at her in such a pitiful state. She cried for a full half-hour before deciding on her course of action.

It was not inevitable that she sought Mary Wardwell. There was no insatiable pull or voracious need, and, while the events of the previous night had been flattering in a threatening sort of way, Hilda had no desire to repeat the incident. She spoke the truth when she claimed she had no wish to know the demon’s true identity - there was enough on her overburdened plate with Sabrina and the baby and every other litany of ridiculousness her family heaped upon her. She was not inclined to add demonic investigation to the list and, so far, Mary had proved herself nothing but an asset to the Spellman family. Yet, despite herself, Hilda could think of no where else to go.  

The woman at Baxter High’s reception squinted at her dispassionately. Hilda smiled nervously and thanked Satan she hadn’t changed into her Frankenstein costume before leaving the house.

“Erm, hello.”

The woman kept staring.

“I’m here to see Miss Wardwell?”

“Name?”

“Hilda Spellman,” said Hilda, trying to peer over the desk.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Ah, well, you see, not technically but-”

“Miss Wardwell is very busy. No appointment, no meeting.”

“Yes, I appreciate that, but if you could just-”

“No appointment,” repeated the woman, “No meeting.”

Hilda pursed her lips. And then she did that thing. Ambrose called it her Jedi mind trick, but it wasn’t a trick, not really. She gently placed an idea in the woman’s consciousness. It sat for a fraction of a second and then began to crawl, like a vine, over the stranger’s mind.

“It’s just I’m a very important friend,” continued Hilda. “I’m sure she’d be frustrated if she found out you turned me away.”

The woman behind the desk sighed and pursed her lips. Hilda waited for the vine to take hold.

“Fine,” sniffed the woman. “But don’t expect her to see you.”

“No,” said Hilda, “No, of course not.”

She breathed a sigh of relief and stood back, swinging her arms by her sides as she waited.

“Hello? Miss Wardwell? Yes, it’s Jackie from reception… Yes, I know, and I’m sorry, I… Yes, I’m very sorry Miss Wardwell. It’s just there’s a Spellman here asking… Yes, Hilda, that’s right, were you expecting her? It’s just she’s not in the diary and… No, of course, my mistake, I’m… Yes, I’m so sorry… Yes… No… No of course, my apologies.”

Jackie put the receiver down and cleared her throat. Hilda beamed at her.

“Second floor,” drawled Jackie, “Room 66.”

“And that would be?”

“Up the stairs, keep left. You’ll see what I mean”

“Lovely,” said Hilda, nodding slightly. “Thanks ever so much.”

It did not take Hilda long to find the office. For all her incredulousness the woman at reception had given surprisingly accurate instructions. From the stairs Hilda had come up at the intersection of a triangle, and Mary Wardwell’s office was almost a full length in the opposite corner. She followed the corridor, hanging close to the left and spying obtrusively into any classrooms that happened to pass her way.

The door to Mary Wardwell’s office swung open before she even knocked.

Mary was sitting back at her desk, chair twisted to one side, feet crossed and resting on the table. She smiled salaciously as Hilda entered. Hilda drew her magic in close and shut the door with her hands.

“Please,” sang the demon, “Sit.”

Hilda sat tentatively on the chair opposite.

“Now then,” said Mary, swinging her legs off the desk theatrically. “What can I do for you?”

“Well,” said Hilda with mock-amiability, “You can stop waving your legs around to start with.”

Displeasure ran across Mary’s face and Hilda shifted in her seat.

“What do you want?” demanded the demon.

“It’s, um…”

Her determination dried in her throat, the same way it had when she stepped into Mary’s car. Usually it was Zelda who had the knee-jerk reactions.

“Yes?”

“It’s about, um… You know what, I’m so sorry, I’m wasting your time, I’ll just be-”

She went to stand, but Mary interrupted her.

“Is this about last night?” She pouted patronisingly. “Because I understand if you want to see me again.”

“No!” Hilda sat back in her chair. “No. Last night was… Anyway, it’s not about last night.”

“Oh?”

“I… Oh look, fine. You remember all that stuff? The forest, the fire? Well, I… I could do with some help, okay?”

Mary grinned.

“Would you like me to buy you some matches?”

“If you’re going to be sarcastic, I’ll just leave.”

The demon stopped grinning. Her face hardened in what Hilda assumed was an attempt at empathy.

“Go on,” she said, voice low.

“It’s Zelda. She… She messed with Dr. Cee.”

Mary raised an eyebrow.

“No,” sighed Hilda, “Not like that. But she… She got inside his head, did some memory thing. Idiot doesn’t even know who I am anymore.”

She sighed again and looked into her lap. She could hear the chair squeaking as Mary leant back.

“And you want me to…?”

“I don’t know,” Hilda looked up at her, pouting pathetically, “You’re a demon, can’t you… Do something mean?” She winced as she spoke.

“Hilda,” said Mary flatly, “You are perfectly capable of devising your own revenge.”

“Yeah, but I don’t bloody want to!”

“Oh,” scoffed Mary, “So I’m an attack dog now?”

“No! No, that is not what I’m saying.” Hilda lowered her voice. “It’s just… I really liked him, okay?”

She sniffled slightly. Mary rolled her eyes.

“Fine,” drawled the demon, “I’ll cut her tongue out tomorrow morning, happy?”

“No!” snapped Hilda, “No… Body stuff. Couldn’t you just give her a nightmare, I dunno something… Spooky?”

There was a deathly silence. Hilda began making preparations should her soul suddenly find itself devoid of a body.

But then Mary pursed her lips. She cocked her head in a motion so avian it was unsettling. Hilda pushed back in her seat as if someone had shoved a piece of rancid meat beneath her nose.

“Why are you here, Hilda Spellman?”

Hilda blinked.

“I’m sorry?”

“Because you don’t want retribution,” continued the demon, head still lilting to one side. Her eyes narrowed, squinting as she pinpointed an intangible part of Hilda’s being. “You’ve never wanted retribution, not really. What you want… Is recognition.”

Hilda felt herself panicking. There was no magic in the air and certainly none that had infiltrated her mind. This was either damn good guess work or a brutal piece of psychology. She swallowed and tried to cultivate a poker face.

Mary did not stop staring.

“I mean… I guess?”

The demon’s head flopped upright. She smiled girlishly, practically beaming with pride.

“Well then,” intoned Mary, voice rising with childish delight. “It’s very simple - just don’t go home.”

Hilda’s mouth hung open. Mary smirked.

“Allow me to explain.”

She clasped her hands together and rested them on the table, straightening her back, business-like. The childish grin slipped into something far more sinister and she bent forward, elbows splayed. Hilda felt herself sitting up straighter even though she had no real reason to.

“Where is Zelda,” said Mary, “Right now?”

Hilda frowned.

“How should I know?”

“And if I were to ask Zelda where _you_ are,” continued the demon. “What would she say?”

“Erm…” Hilda fiddled with her sleeve. “Well, right now, she’d probably ask why I’m not back from the bookshop and trying to throttle her.”

“And usually?”

“Yeah, I mean… Usually she would know where I am. What… What’s your point, exactly?”

“Don’t play dense, dear. It doesn’t suit you.”

Hilda sighed in exasperation.

“Alright, alright. But even if I wanted to, I can’t go galivanting off into the horizon. Someone has to be around to make breakfast, and the bathroom’s a mess, and no one’s bleached the embalming room for at least a week even though I know Ambrose was in there two days ago, and then there’s the baby and- Forget I mentioned a baby.”

“Hilda,” said Mary, lips pursed. “You gave me your mind last night. I know about the baby.”

“Oh… _Shit_.”

Hilda’s face was a wellspring of panic. The demon grinned animalistically.

“Don’t worry,” she purred, “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Yeah bloody right. Fuck, fuckity, fuck.”

Hilda stood up but Mary crooned after her, beckoning with her finger for Hilda to stay.

“You trusted me twenty-four hours ago Hilda Spellman. I kept my promise then, did I not?”

Hilda paused.

“Have a little faith,” continued Mary. “If not in the Dark Lord, then in me. Your secrets are safe.”

“… You promise?”

“I swear on my soul.”

Hilda sat back down. She drew in a sharp breath and then exhaled heavily, puffing out her cheeks.

“The point is,” she said, hands in her lap. “There are a lot of reasons why I can’t just… Leave.”

“I’m not saying forever,” replied Mary, “Just a few days, a few nights. Nobody but you needs to know where you are, or what you’re doing. Or who.”

“Right, yeah,” scoffed Hilda, ignoring the ‘who’ with absolute decorum. “And where would I get the money for that?”

“You know my door is always open to you.”

“Funnily enough, I’ll pass.”

Mary Wardwell twisted her lips. Hilda could feel her deliberating, watching on as Mary swung fractionally back and forth in the swivel chair.

“You know,” said the demon, “Wardwell raked up some rather substantial savings, over the years.”

Hilda frowned slightly.

“How long have you been in that body, exactly?”

“A very long time. Why?”

“No… Reason.” Hilda shook her head slightly, for the benefit of no one but herself. “You were saying?”

“Put the hotel in Mary’s name. I’ll pay.”

“Ohh, no.” Hilda sat back and wagged one finger. “No, no. I’ve seen this one before. You vanish into the ether and I get lumped with a triple figure bill, no thank you very much.”

Mary rolled her eyes loudly.

“Would you like me to escort you? Because I will do that. And pay up front.”

Hilda stared at her in shock.

“… You would do that?”

“For a friend,” said Mary, shrugging.

“You’re playing at something,” replied Hilda, shaking her head. “Demons do not do things for free.”

“You’ve agreed to keep my secret,” said Mary. Her voice was low and it lilted gently against Hilda’s being. “I want to help.”

The witch pursed her lips.

“Let me thank you,” continued Mary, simpering. “Let me show my appreciation. Or at least, if you intend to run back to Zelda like a sorrowful child, allow me to express my condolences before the fact.”

Hilda took a sharp breath. She paused for only a moment.

“You know the B&B on the edge of the forest?”

Mary nodded.

“That’s where I want.”

The demon laughed. Her mirth was not unkind, and that fact alone confused Hilda more than she thought possible.

Mary picked up the receiver on her desk and dialled an incomprehensible number.

“Hello? Jackie? Yes, this is Miss Wardwell. I’m afraid I have to cancel my eleven o’clock. And the two o’clock. Oh, and the three thirty meeting too… Oh pipe down, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

She slammed the phone down with gusto and turned back to Hilda, face rippling with joy.

“Shall we, my dear?”

“Yeah,” said Hilda, shifting uneasily in her chair. “Yeah, let’s go.”

And they rose in perfect unison.


	6. Chapter 6

Those three days at the B&B were the most blissful Hilda had had for years. Sitting in a bath that didn’t reek of chlorine; snuggling in bedsheets that weren’t already twenty years old; living in a room that didn’t collect dust like an enigmatic reverse hoover. It was bliss.

Zelda had been furious. But predictably so, and Hilda had taken the necessary precautions to keep herself safe. Wards here, a hex there, a hundred sets of spidery eyes trained on Zelda in case she tried anything. Ambrose, almost equally predictably, had been proud of his marginally less flamboyant aunt. He had even stopped by her bedroom, knocked on the door and given her a small cheer of encouragement. Sabrina had seemed moderately impressed too, but she was so preoccupied with her own dramatics that she gave barely more than a kind word and a wry smile.

Hilda did not try to re-establish her relationship with Dr. Cee. It was quite comical really – she’d responded to his advert, as before, and chuckled with amusement at his bewildered face when her fingers flew expertly over the coffee machines. She got the job on the spot. He didn’t even ask her to wear a costume. Although he did insist that she dress in black.

Hilda, in a flair of overenthusiasm, had gone out and bought half a new wardrobe. She did not throw away her cosy cardigans and bright florals (she loved her style even if certain individuals insisted on calling it ‘frumpy’), but her work clothes, loose flowy fabrics and thick cocoon cardigans tipped with an excessive amount of silver jewellery, began to appeal to just as much. Zelda thought they looked ridiculous and ‘occult’. Hilda didn’t care.

Mary wasn’t there the week after Hilda’s ‘holiday’. Hilda had waited impatiently the entire night, even staying behind long after they closed up shop. She knew the demon was testing her. Or rather, she assumed the demon was testing her, and she knew that she would not yield. If some great crisis had befallen Mary Wardwell, Hilda would be sure to hear about it through her niece, and although she did ask the young witch (quietly, when Zelda was out of earshot), she did not pursue the matter herself.

The strategy paid off.

Mary returned the following week, eyes fluttering, lips smiling. She practically glowed when Hilda approached the table with a chocolate milkshake.

“Hilda, my dear, how was your holiday?”

“Delightful, if you must know.”

“Good, I’m glad.”

Mary’s voice was worryingly sentimental and Hilda smiled uncomfortably. Mary smiled back.

“May I ask you something, Hilda?”

“Well,” sniffed the witch, “That rather depends on the question.”

Hilda shifted her weight back and let the tray hang vertical against her thigh. She put one hand on her hip and watched Mary carefully. Mary drew the glass closer.

“It’s just,” said the demon, “I’ve been thinking. When you signed the Book of the Beast…”

She pursed her lips in contemplation.

“Yes?”

“What did you write?”

“My name, obviously.”

“Hilda Spellman?”

“No - Hildegard Antoinette.”

“I see.”

Mary took an obtrusive slurp of her milkshake. Hilda sighed loudly.

“And is that what people called you back then? Hildegard?”

Hilda frowned.

“Well… No.”

“So you were known to the world as Hilda?”

“I mean… I guess so?”

“I see.”

The demon drank once more. Hilda was watching her carefully.

“And the priest,” she continued, “Called you Hildegard, at the baptism?”

“I mean, no.” Hilda shifted on the spot again, swapping weight from one foot to the other. “But High Priest Nuttle always was a bit dodgery. Didn’t ruin things - it was a lovely baptism. At least that’s what everyone said.”

“I see.”

There was a beat. Hilda pursed her lips.

“I know what you’re trying to imply. You shouldn’t.”

Mary smiled at her impishly.

“Shouldn’t I?”

“No.”

The demon was undeterred.

“Because there’s always loopholes, Hilda. Always.”

Hilda snorted.

“In the mortal world perhaps.” Hilda tucked the tray under her arm. “But it takes more than a slip of the tongue to deceive the Dark Lord.”

“So you take me for a fool?”

She almost sounded offended.

“No,” said Hilda, “I take you for a fraud. There’s a big difference.”

Mary shrugged and tried to feign indifference.

“Only offering some friendly advice.”

Hilda rolled her eyes and went to walk away, but Mary’s following sentence stopped her in her tracks. 

“You know, I once thought I was indebted to him too.”

Hilda clenched her jaw. No one knew anything, really, about the deal between demons and the devil. There was much speculation – talk of fallen angels, of human emotions so strong they spawned corporeal nightmares, of mortals killing the wrong sow on the wrong night and a black goat coming back for revenge. But no one really knew. Demons didn’t tend to stick around long enough to ask.

She turned back to face Mary.

“It wasn’t so long ago,” continued the demon, “I thought I owed him everything.”

“And don’t you?”

“No.”

Mary took another sip of her drink, less flamboyant this time.

“I owe him something, of course, so do you. But gifts that come with a price aren’t gifts at all, are they?”

Hilda stared at her with weary annoyance.

“The Book of the Beast has never been about gifts. It’s a trade. A deal. They tell us that right from the beginning.”

“How unfortunate for you.” She smiled wickedly. “Demons don’t make deals.”

Hilda perked up at that. She leant over the table slightly.

“No?”

“No. But…” Mary paused, pursed her lips again. “Well, it’s different for everyone.”

“And yet, somehow, I get the feeling the Dark Lord made a deal with you.”

Hilda’s reply was slingshot, but it missed its target. Mary sniggered.

“Maybe he did. That doesn’t mean I was obliged to sign. Besides, he didn’t keep his side of the bargain, so it’s all null, regardless.”

The witch raised an eyebrow. She pieced the story together in her mind, trying to make it fit her pre-established narrative - painting over the tiles when they were mismatched.

“And that’s why you’re in Greendale?” she asked. “Pratting about in a mortal body? The Dark Lord broke his deal and you abandoned him?”

Mary paused, face neutral. Her eyes dipped momentarily out of focus. Then she blinked back to Hilda.

“Yes.”

“And you chose to help Sabrina because…?”

“Because I saw a kindred spirit,” said Mary, without missing a beat. “Defiance is an admirable trait, you know.”

Hilda snorted again.

“I’m sure Sabrina will be delighted to know.”

Mary’s face fell. Hilda grinned and watched the demon squirm. She had never been playground bully before. She quite liked it.

“If you tell her, Hilda, I would simply never forgive you.”

“Who says I want your forgiveness?”

Mary took a deep breath, practically inhaled Hilda’s magic, and her face calmed. Hilda stopped playing bully. The demon was sniggering again.

“Your pulse.”

The witch sniffed and stood up a little straighter.

“Well,” she said brusquely, “This conversation has been most enlightening, but I must be getting on.”

“Enlightening how?”

Hilda paused.

“I was always taught demons had no sentimentality. Guess I was taught wrong.”

“I’m glad I was able to correct you.”

Hilda swallowed dryly. She did not move away from the table.

“What are you doing after work?” asked Mary, voice suddenly laced with sprightliness.

Hilda blinked in surprise.

“Erm, nothing?”

“Because,” purred the demon, “I’d be more than happy to correct you on other things. If you’d like.”

The witch rolled her eyes.

“Oh, come now,” continued Mary, “Don’t be so mean. There’s more to me than wantonness, and I hold more secrets than your pathetic High Priest could ever dream of. Aren’t you at least a little bit curious?”

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

“Satisfaction brought it back.”

An unspoken exchange passed between them

“I don’t want to know your name.”

“Who said I would tell you my name?" cooed Mary. "I hold information far more valuable than that. Go on, I’ll even let you pick neutral ground.”

Hilda inhaled deeply.

“Not tonight,” she said flatly. “Friday.”

Mary smiled.

“Friday.”

“The gin bar near Demdike’s Fountain. You know it?”

“I’m sure I’ll find my way.”

Hilda exhaled.

“And what time suits you, Hilda dear?”

Again with the sentimentality.

“Seven?”

“Perfect.”

Hilda turned and teetered towards the counter without another word. She felt Mary’s magic tingling down her back.

The warmth was not entirely unpleasant.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: for reference to some gropey-ness, nothing explicit

Hilda did not fully know why she accepted the demon’s invitation. Perhaps it was the lure of information, or, more pitifully, the lure of agency. After her jaunt two weeks ago, Hilda felt unstoppable. Zelda still hadn’t killed her. Ambrose, in some miraculous twist of fate, had actually started helping with the household chores when she asked. Only Sabrina glided around in blissful ignorance. The young witch was surely aware of the change taking place in the Spellman household, the gentle but inescapable pull of shifting power, but, for whatever reason, she kept out of it. It could have been wisdom – Hilda suspected it was teenage self-absorption.

Demdike’s Fountain was a curious place. It pretended to be posh, dominated the paved square in all its suburban glory, but hemmed as it was by rows of terraced buildings, the sheer eeriness of the monument leaked into the atmosphere. The water was dark, pitch black at night, and those who lived in the flats above the shops all had a certain toughness that wasn’t found in other parts of town. The gin bar was much the same. Middle-class by all accounts, full of oak barrels and wooden furniture, a fire hazard if Hilda had ever seen one. But it was still unsettling. The fireplace created shadows it should not have cast; the patrons were nearly unreadable, even with magic. Hilda figured if she could concentrate on being unsettled by the scenery, she could avoid being unsettled by Mary.

It worked, to a point.

She sipped gingerly at the Bombay Sapphire, listening intently as Mary dragged up secrets from the bowels of the earth: why some things worked, why other things didn’t; why the Dark Lord did this, why he didn’t do that; what familiars _really_ were, and what they most certainly were not. It felt as if she were telling Hilda everything. And Mary drank. Drank far, far more than Hilda, but seemed entirely unaffected. Three and a half glasses down Hilda could feel the dizziness even as she sat, but Mary only seemed to hold herself even straighter.

She did not stop talking. She moved on from the Dark Lord, discussed the hierarchies of power in Hell, the various penchants of various demons, even the in-fighting and dissidents at the Church of Night. By midnight Hilda couldn’t tell if she was drunk on alcohol or drunk on secrets. The world was swaying before her.

“And do you want to know a secret about Zelda?”

Hilda snorted.

“I know everything about Zelda.”

“Oh, really? And do you know why she kills you?”

The smile disappeared from Hilda’s face. She took a sip of her drink.

“Yes.”

Mary leaned back in the chair, eyes widening in surprise. Hilda swirled the glass in her hand and looked into her lap.

“There was one night…”

She stopped. She felt Mary moving closer, leaning forward – for the first time that evening, she knew something the demon didn’t. Clearly her wander into Hilda’s mind had not been as deep as they both thought. But then again, this was something no one but Hilda knew. It was a secret buried so deep she’d almost forgotten it was there at all. The witch took another sip of her drink and began again.

“When Edward died, Zelda was a mess. You should’ve seen it. She stopped eating, stopped talking to anyone. I don’t even know why really, her and Edward hadn’t lived together for years.” Hilda inhaled again, face contorting with matter-of-fact sadness. “I came back from England for the funeral. I didn’t want to stay, to be honest, but she… I couldn’t leave her.”

She glanced back at Mary, and Mary nodded. Hilda swallowed dryly and looked down again, focusing on the grain in the floorboards. She knew she should stop talking. She knew that giving a demon this much sway was stupid and dangerous. Giving anyone this much sway was stupid - you couldn’t change the past. But the story had been set in motion. It was dripping out of Hilda like water from a leaky faucet. She couldn’t stop if she tried.

“I moved into her room. And the baby, the baby was in there too. And there were these nights, nights after Sabrina had screamed and screamed and we were so tired.” She sighed. “We were so exhausted, Mary. I’d never felt exhaustion like that before. Neither had Zelda. She would fall asleep right beside me.” Hilda’s expression glazed over. “Or I would fall asleep right beside her. I don’t know which way round it is anymore.”

She finished the last slither of her drink and sat the glass down on the counter. Mary waved to the bartender for more of the same. Hilda had stopped talking, and Mary’s magic nudged her, gently.

“Go on.”

Hilda exhaled heavily.

“And there was one night,” she continued, “One night just like that.”

The bartender set a drink down and Mary slipped him a handful of notes. Hilda took the glass without even looking at it, without looking at anything but the floor.

“And we were in Zelda’s bed. And she was asleep. Or at least, I thought she was asleep. I thought I was asleep, too.” She took a fast, undignified gulp. “And then I felt her next to me. Not beside me, but… Next to me.” She paused, took yet another deep breath. “She was pushing up against me. Clinging to me. And she was moving. And her hand was… Where I didn’t want it to be.”

Hilda met Mary’s eye.

“So yes,” she said slowly, “I know why Zelda kills me.”

Mary inclined her head, ever so slightly. The demon looked equal parts concerned and curious. Hilda could not tell which sentiment outweighed the other. When Mary spoke, her voice was far more compassionate than the witch thought possible.

“Did she stop,” said the demon, “When you asked her to stop?”

Hilda almost smirked.

“I didn’t ask. I pushed her out the bed.”

She threw her head back and downed the glass, grimacing hard as she slammed back onto the counter. 40% worked its way through her organs and she visibly shuddered. Mary watched her.

“Did you hate it?”

“No.”

“Do you hate her?”

“No.”

“Do you love her?”

Hilda took a deep breath.

“… Not in the way she wants me to love her.”

Mary sat back in her seat, crossed her legs.

“But there would be no retribution. She’s beautiful and you’re not mortals.” It was a statement, not a compliment. “Why deny her?”

“Because she’s Zelda.”

Hilda pushed the glass away.

“And she needs to learn you can’t always get what you want.”

Mary smiled at that. Not the gentle, inviting smile she had offered Hilda earlier in the conversation, but a seditious, wry smile of satisfaction. Hilda swallowed on nothing and went to stand.

“I’m going home.”

“Let me drive you.”

“You’ve been drinking.”

“Then let me walk you.”

Hilda paused. She held onto the counter. One of the other patrons brushed past her and out the door.

“Don’t we live in opposite directions?”

“Does it matter?”

Hilda was rocking back and forth. Mary stood up and held her lightly on the elbow.

“Fine,” said the witch. “But no tricks.”

Mary played no tricks.

Hilda slept with unexpected tranquillity. 


	8. Chapter 8

It was Sabrina who discovered Lilith’s identity, in the end. Hilda had an inkling of course, had a vague idea ever since the demon had divulged all the secrets of the underworld in her ear, but it was still a shock. She didn’t know how Sabrina had figured it out, nor the extent to which her other family members were involved. But Sabrina had realised the truth and she had told Ambrose. Then Ambrose had, in an act of uncharacteristic good sense, told Zelda. Then Hilda had got home from her lunch shift and Zelda had told her too.

The planning meeting had been mildly amusing. They all gathered around the kitchen table, Zelda standing and smoking dramatically, everybody else seated. Sabrina had stared into a great big book of demonology and tried to vocalise her thoughts. The confusion was palatable. Sabrina couldn’t understand what Lilith was doing, only that it was likely her fault she had signed the book of the beast: Zelda told her to stop being preposterous; Ambrose shrugged and said ‘Be careful, cousin.’ Hilda stayed silent and waited for everyone else to reach a conclusion.

They were going to interrogate the demon. How exactly they planned to do that, Hilda did not know. She had skirted around the question when Zelda pointedly referenced her friendship with Mary, and quietly expressed that Mary seemed ‘more powerful at night’. Obtuse though it was, the pathetic titbit had done the job, and the three other Spellman’s had decided that they would visit the cabin in the woods at first light. 

Hilda waited until they went to bed before jumping in the car and following Lilith’s too-strong magic like a bloodhound.

When she answered the door, Hilda pushed over the threshold without even saying hello.

“I know who you are.”

Lilith froze.

“Sabrina figured it out,” continued Hilda. “They’re coming here tomorrow. First light. They won’t come when it’s dark.”

Lilith let out a breathy laugh and shut the front door.

“And you thought to tell me? That’s foolish.”

She was looking right at Hilda, beyond her body and into her soul. Her tone was not mocking, nor dripping with its usually latent acidity. Hilda crossed her arms.

“Well.” She swallowed and grit her jaw. “I felt I should let you know.”

“Do they seek to banish me?” asked Lilith, positively beaming.

“Question you, I think.”

Lilith laughed again and crossed the room to meet Hilda in the middle.

“As if they could ever make me speak. Even if they destroy Wardwell’s body, they’ll only set me free. Still,” she continued, voice softening, “I thank you, for warning me.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Hilda stared at the demon. The demon stared back.

“What will you do?” asked Hilda. “Because Sabrina thinks you ruined her life. So does Zelda, for that matter. They’ll try to break you down the moment they get here.”

“Oh, I’ll be long gone by then.”

Hilda raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll take a new body,” said Lilith with a shrug. “I have no need for Mary now.”

“You’re going to kill someone?”

Lilith opened her mouth to speak, but not a single syllable escaped her lips before she caught herself. She closed her mouth. Hilda watched as the demon’s expression shifted. First surprise, then satisfaction, then avarice.

“Not necessarily.”

Hunger glinted in Lilith’s eyes. Hilda recognised it and exhaled heavily. Her jaw stiffened.

“You can’t take witches.”

She took a small step back.

Lilith began to approach.

“Demons can’t take witches,” repeated Hilda, unconvincingly.

She inched her way towards the door.

“Only because witches don’t let them,” replied Lilith. She was advancing at twice the speed of Hilda’s retreat.

“You can’t take us. Dead or alive.”

“And where did you hear that?”

“It’s in… It’s in the deal!”

Hilda’s back landed heavily against the door and she scrambled to find the handle, but Lilith was already upon her, pushing their bodies together. One hand reached for Hilda’s face, the other the doorknob, preventing any hope of exit. Lilith curled her fingers into Hilda’s cheeks, squashing her features together as if she were a ragdoll. 

“But you didn’t make a deal.”

Hilda’s chest rose and fell against Lilith’s. The demon smiled, wickedly.

“There’s always loopholes, my love.” She relaxed her grasp and ran one thumb along Hilda’s bottom lip. “Always.”

Hilda turned her face away. Lilith leaned in close, whispered into her ear.

“Just think about it, Hilda. Two minds, one body. I can make you strong, you can make me kind.”

Her fingers were stroking Hilda’s jaw, snaking down the front of her neck.

“No one would ever underestimate you again,” crooned the demon. “No one would ever hurt you. You would be respected. Forever.”

“I don’t want you.”

Even her voice was shaking.

“And yet, here you are. You came to warn me.”

Hilda swallowed.

“It would be so easy,” sang Lilith. “Just a little nudge, relinquish a little bit of space. Think of all the fun we could have.”

Her fingers began to curl around Hilda’s neck. They dug in, hard, and the edge of Hilda’s vision grew fuzzy. Lilith kissed her on the lips so lightly it felt like a butterfly kiss. The demon kept smiling.

“Say it, Hilda.” The sweetness was all wrong. “Tell me you’ll let me in.” It was the sugar of rotten fruit. “Tell me I’m yours.” It was vile.

Hilda’s face hardened and she stared Lilith straight in the eyes.

“I said,” repeated the witch, “I don’t want you.”

Her knee flew into Mary Wardwell’s torso with the force to crack a rib. Lilith bent double and Hilda grabbed her by the hair, smashing Mary’s face into the door before throwing her onto the ground for good measure. Lilith rolled onto her back, laughing and coughing and coughing and laughing. Hilda scampered round the armchairs and yanked the fire poker from the mantelpiece. She held it to Lilith’s throat like a sword. Lilith chuckled breathily, blood spilling from her nose, bruises forming around her eyes. She lay, arms splayed, like Christ upon the cross.

“Get up.”

Lilith did not move. Hilda shoved the poker into the demon’s neck.

“I said get up!”

Lilith pushed the fire poker away with her fingers. She staggered, slowly, to her feet, and heaved herself upright on one of the armchairs. Hilda kept the weapon at arm’s length, held in one hand, tip pointing in Lilith’s direction. Lilith winced, but did not stop smiling.

“You know that won’t work,” she said, shaking her head with bemusement. “Put it down.”

“No.”

Hilda took a step forward, touching the poker ever so slightly into Lilith’s neck. The tip was visibly shaking against her skin. Hilda noticed and reached forward with her other hand, clutching it between her palms.

“You know you can’t fight me.”

“I don’t care.”

A single fat tear dribbled pathetically down Hilda’s cheek.  

Lilith stopped smiling. Her face flattened and her eyes glistened with what appeared, momentarily, to be remorse.

“I can’t take with force, you know that. You were never in real danger.”

“Yeah, well it didn’t bloody feel like that!”

Hilda wiped her nose with the sleeve of one hand, then redoubled her grasp on the fire poker as soon as she had finished.

“You were grooming me! All that, this, bullshit about coming onto me, that was all bloody… Say it! Go on, say it to my face! Tell me you were grooming me!”

Lilith exhaled heavily.

“Do you really think me so base?”

“I will not be part of your repulsive game!”

Hilda jabbed the poker into Lilith’s neck so hard it should have winded her, but Lilith didn’t move. Her face flooded with an emotion that demons were not meant to experience. She shook her head minutely.

“I would never do that to you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I just thought…”

A minuscule trickle of water dripped from the corner of Lilith’s eye.

“You just thought _what_?”

“I just thought we could help each other.”

“Yeah? Well you’ve got a funny way of asking.”

The water slinked down Lilith’s neck and stained the top of her dress. Hilda’s breathing slowed as she watched it fall.

“It won’t hurt,” said the demon. “You helped set me free, Hilda. I want to be with you. Why would I harm you?”

Lilith was frowning in genuine confusion. It unnerved Hilda.

“I don’t know.”

Lilith took a half step forward, ignoring the force of metal at her throat.

“We could be magnificent, you and I. Think of all the good we could achieve.”

Hilda held firm.

“You will not take me.”

“And yet you still won’t kill this body.” Lilith chuckled wearily, half strangled by the poker. “Sympathy for the devil - you can be condemned for that, you know.”

Hilda inhaled heavily, sucking the air in and swallowing.

“And what about the devil? Is she condemned when she has sympathy for me?”

Lilith’s eyes widened. Another solitary, pitiful drop of water slid down her face. Hilda did not waver. The demon began to snigger. She broke into a breathy chuckle.

Then Lilith threw her head back and howled.

It was erratic, defeatist and terrifying all at the same time. Mary Wardwell’s mirth was devoured by a demonic screeching that cracked at as many pitches as the human ear could decipher and more, laughter so intense it pounded in Hilda’s skull. She felt foreign magic cascading from nowhere. It poured down from above her, over her, around her, burying her like metaphysical quicksand. She winced, struggling to keep her weapon raised.

Lilith took a step back and clutched onto the top of an armchair for support, leaning over as her abdomen finally gave way, rupturing and sending trickles of hot blood over Mary Wardwell’s internal organs. Demonic laughter was swallowed by human choking and she spluttered as a smattering of blood was coughed onto the carpet. Lilith wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and struggled to stay upright. Hilda inched forward with the poker.

“Well, demon?”

The demon sniggered.

“I will go.”

Hilda sighed with relief and her grip on the fire poker softened. Lilith stood up straighter, leaning on the armchair for support. She winced in human pain and her voice began to waver.

“But this isn’t over. I will win you, someday.”

Hilda lowered her weapon. When she spoke, her voice was cripplingly kind.

“No, love,” she said, with a slight shake of the head, “I don’t think you will. That’s not how it works.”

Lilith swallowed. Her tone became desperate.

“I won’t leave you.” She sounded more like an abandoned lover than the Queen of Hell. “I’ll come back.” Or a lost child, shut out in the cold. “Another form perhaps, but I will come back for you.” It was as if the demon had already been exorcised. “I’ll be there, Wednesday night, same as always. I’ll be there.”

Hilda smiled sadly.

“I know.”

“Because we don’t owe him anything, Hilda.” Her voice was imploring. She stepped towards Hilda, fractionally, carefully. “Nothing at all.”

“Don’t we?”

“He doesn’t have your true name. He no longer has my allegiance.”

Hilda did not back away.

“We could do anything,” she continued. “Anything you like.”

She placed one hand on Hilda’s cheek. Hilda shut her eyes and sighed.

“Just go.” Her voice was quiet and still. “Just… Go.”

Lilith dropped her hand and Hilda opened her eyes.

The demon walked slowly towards the door. Lilith stopped at the threshold, fingers curled around the handle. She turned back to Hilda.

“Tell me you’ll think about it?”

“I won’t leave my family,” said Hilda, shaking her head slowly. “I can’t.”

Lilith snorted cheerlessly.

“I know. But it was worth a try.”

“Did you mean it?” asked Hilda suddenly. “All the… The flirting, the… Everything? It really wasn’t just a ploy?”

She was watching Lilith carefully, face filled with anticipation. Longing. Hope. Lilith smiled again, broadly this time, rich with satisfaction.

“Ask me on Wednesday.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ask her on wednesday
> 
> (also thank u so much for your comments i know i never reply to anything bc i'm neurotic about it but i rly appreciate them ♥)


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